


Who We Are and What We Become

by screwysonic



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, NSFW, Oral Sex, Romance, Shameless Smut, Smut, tardis sexytime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:30:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1747934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screwysonic/pseuds/screwysonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We become ourselves in the presence of those we admire and love; if that's true, I've never been more myself than with him. Even if he doesn't know. Even if he's not interested in what I want. (Rose Tyler)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who We Are and What We Become

The first time I met him, I don’t know how I loved him then. How could anything compare to now? To tomorrow? I didn’t know how I’d hurt when he hurt- how I would win when he won. I didn’t know loving him would be like finding and losing myself. I questioned whether I existed before my soul met his. Was I always who I am? Was I anyone before him? Are we anyone without love? I voice these thoughts to him in a more condensed fashion. I ask him, “Was I anyone before I met you?” The Doctor, my Doctor, with his cropped hair and ordinary clothes, and cheeky grin, listens with intrigue but merely smiles at me when I conclude.

“Yes, course you were,” he answers, eyes rolling. “Don’t be stupid.” He’s teasing. I’m not.

“Yeah, but who, Doctor?” I question. He lifts his head from where it was, in my lap, and pulls his head away from my hands. I was mindlessly running my fingers against his hair. He didn’t have enough to run through but men- all species of men, that is- were like puppies when it came to that, The Doctor most of all. He never said that he enjoyed it but if you stopped before he sat up, he’d stare up with those glass-like blue eyes and pierce through you until you gave in and started again.

“Oh, come off it, Rose, you sound thick.” I roll my eyes at him as he sits up to face me. The TARDIS gives a shudder and he glances at me apologetically, leaning away from me now, focused on figuring out the ship’s problem. We were dancing on dangerous territory. I furrow my brow. I hate when he calls me stupid. Sometimes he seems to do it affectionately, like right now, but others…he’s meant it. Or at least felt it. And I can forgive him for that. I can forgive the Doctor for almost anything, but it still bothers me now and then when he says it. He must see me like a child. He stands up to attend to the controls and I lean my head against the center console.

“It’s like you can’t make up your mind when it comes to me. Whether I’m smart or dull. Worthless or useful.” He glances down at my face, confused and a bit wounded.

“I’ve made up my mind,” he answers, as he straightens out the TARDIS and stops her whining. There is a ringing silence. The TARDIS seems to echo every fragment of tension. “You know that.” He slides back down next to me very casually, but he still stares at me, expecting a reply. I let out a sigh.

“I know, I know,” I confirm, but evidently it is not enough for him to take as a drop of subject, because he leans back into it, grasping my hand as he does so.

“Rose. You were your own person before me. Your person saved my person. D’you know what I was before I took you? I was vengeful. I was hateful. Still am, sometimes- look at me. Some things I was just generated with, big ears, hefty nose…but some of this face,” he gestured to himself and his tired eyes. He gave a sigh. “I’m old. I developed these wrinkles. They’re well earned, and I’m even older than I look. You’re smart, you’re beautiful- you’re young, much younger than me. You’ve got this fire to you. You burn with it. With that energy, that feeling. You’re a star, Rose Tyler. You’re hotter than flames.” I can’t help but let a slight scoff escape my lips. I had broken eye contact with him midway through those statements. I knew what he was trying to say, and I was grateful for it but at the same time I couldn’t believe much of what he tried to convince me. And his eyes were always unforgiving. Not that they were always hard, or harsh. They weren’t. The Doctor was soft at his core; he didn’t like to see pain and suffering and would go out of his way to stop it. He might complain while doing it but he made the elective choice to heal where people hurt. No, the Doctor was forgiving in that sense but his eyes were restless. When they looked at you, they poured into you- capturing whatever was inside and forcing it out. Sometimes the Doctor’s stormy blue eyes were an antidote. Others, his gaze felt like poison. It ripped through you. The Doctor- his universe, his views, his life- ripped through you. It became you. That’s what all this was about.

“Maybe, maybe you’re right. But without you, I’d be home right now, wouldn’t I? I’d be lying in bed in my knickers, staring at the ceiling asking someone else in the sky what I should be doing, if there was a point to me and my useless life. I wasn’t going anywhere. I dropped out of school. No A-levels, I’d have been there all of my life. Like my mum.”

“Shame I missed seeing that first bit.” I swatted at him, jokingly, and he continued speaking. “I didn’t make you what you are, Rose. You’re not something I just baked in an oven! I showed you. I promised you I’d show you all sorts of stuff. I guess you didn’t realize that you’d be on the itinerary.” I lean my head on his shoulder and he drapes a lazy arm around me, almost methodically, like it’s his body’s response to mine. So natural. “For the record, y’know, I failed my driver’s test. Never had a license to drive this ole’ girl. Didn’t believe in it. Driving a ship that travels through time isn’t about technical mumbo-jumbo, it’s about feeling and knowing where you need to go. The TARDIS took me to 2005, and it took me to you. Didn’t need someone to teach me that in some class.” I smirk at him. It wasn’t as comforting as he thought, especially considering not even moments ago the ship shook with malfunctions probably caused by something the Doctor neglected to do, but the TARDIS was his girl and didn’t want to careen out of the sky any more than he did.

“So, you don’t think…” he gives a sigh; he obviously thought the conversation was done. “Y’don’t think that you’ve changed me, then?”

“Of course I’ve changed you!” he says, eagerly. I raise an eyebrow. “Of course I did, Rose! That’s the best part of being together, you and me. I’ve changed you and you’ve changed me. You’ve reached deep into my core. You’ve pulled out a man I thought I lost. You’ve saved me from being alone. You’ve made me remember that there’s a right and there’s a wrong. I don’t know how I’ve changed you. I like to think that if anything, I’ve made you want better for yourself than what you were getting before, because that’s what you deserve. You’re the best, Rose. I love ‘the best’. I only take ‘the best’. I only want ‘the best’.” His hand begins making lazy circles up and down my arm and I look back up at him. He stops, and I tilt my head at him.

“No, no, please don’t…”

“Don’t what?” he asks, while subconsciously continuing the motion. A relaxed sigh escapes me. He seems to stare at his hands as he does it now. Above us, the TARDIS groans again and racks with terror; something has jostled her and she rumbles in response. The Doctor lets out an exasperated noise and stands up to tinker with the controls again without a word and I force myself up from the ground as well.

There’s a moment, when he’s fiddling about with the controls and he glances across the console and the glowing green light reflects off the corners of his face, where we meet eyes and I know something that could never be explained to me. How much you can love a person without saying it or knowing it. I don’t know how much I loved him before, or how much I love him now, or how much I’ll love him in the next moment. What I do know is that love is timeless. I walk over to him and reach a hand out to his face. He doesn’t recoil, but he does start a little at the motion, and I bite my lip at him in amusement. The look on his face is almost stern. He puts a hand over mine.

“Rose…” he trails off after he says my name. I raise an eyebrow at him.

“What if I told you…” his hands drop from the console for a moment “that I wanted to…kiss you?”

“Rose…I’m trying to keep the TARDIS in the sky.”

“Oh, I know, it’s just…hypothetical, that’s all.”

“I’d tell you that it wouldn’t be right.” He’s not looking at me now. It’s like he refuses too. “I’m nearly 48 times your age.”

“You only look about twice,” I reply and his face contorts a bit sharpish, as if he’s mildly offended by the statement. “A handsome twice my age.” He nods.

“Regardless…it wouldn’t be right.”

“You don’t want to, is that it?” I ask, leaning against the console of the TARDIS. She’s still wailing but the Doctor brings a hammer down quite forcefully down on one of her buttons and she shuts off. Now, the silence feels awkwardly suffocating. But I’ve already began and I cannot walk away from the conversation. I won’t. He throws the hammer onto the console and stands in front of me now, his arms crossed in a defensive nature. He stares me hard in the eyes.

“I really mean this when I say it now- don’t be stupid. Of course…Of course I want too.” He says. I close my eyes for a moment.

 “Let me kiss you, then.” I say, but he doesn’t budge on his answer.

 “I can’t. Rose, think about it. I’m 900 years old.” I scoff at him, but he reaches out to me, placing a hand on my shoulders. “Nine hundred. Who knows how long I can live for? I don’t. But I’ve already been alive nine times longer than you can ever be expected to live. It’s not you I’m worried about, it’s me. You’ve can find someone much better. Any girl who gets swept away in this ship, especially with your penchant for domestics and all, you’re gonna want to kiss the captain.”

 “You’re not a captain, Doctor. And I’m not just some girl who got swept away on your ship; I’m not some girl you just took with you that fell in love with you because you opened this whole new universe to me. You didn’t make me, remember? I fell in love with you because I wanted to, not because you made me or influenced me. You couldn’t have been further from that, influencing me that is. God knows you’re hard and unable to read- but because my soul is in need of your soul. That’s what I’m talking about now. I want to kiss you because not doing it just seems like a waste of my time…”

He puts his free hand on my cheek and pulls me forward to press his lips against mine- it’s soft at first, as if he cannot fathom that it’s what I really want- and that’s so like him, to misunderstand emotions despite being an advocate for them. I lean harder into the kiss like a woman who knows what she wants, and I wrap my arms around his back, sinking into his shoulders to encourage him to be deeper, more passionate. He works into it; I smile against his kiss and I can feel his mouth contort to the same shape, and his hands wander down to rest on my hips.

I slide my fingers under his collar and give it a tug. He obeys readily, and together we get his clunky leather jacket off in one somewhat coordinated swoop. It makes a thick sound as it hits the ground and the Doctor looks at it almost apologetically, but I roll my eyes at him and he turns back automatically and begins to kiss me again without another pause and I’m honestly taken aback by his enthusiasm. I might have engaged him a bit more than I thought I could have.

Not that I’m complaining by any means.

I bring my own hands to the bottom of my tee-shirt, and he steps back for a moment to let me peel it off my body, and he grins like a boy from secondary school.

“Don’t get cheeky,” I warn, jokingly.

“I didn’t think you were hiding all that under there,” is what he replies. I move to playfully smack him but he avoids the love tap. Instead, I end up chasing him around the TARDIS console (which has kept quiet for the last few minutes, thank god) insisting that he remove his jumper so I can see underneath. We’re nothing more than a couple of kids. He eventually does as I say, and now we’re both standing there shirtless, and out of breath from running, wondering who’s going to move first this time like an elaborate game of chess, no that’s too mature- like checkers. He does. He backs me up against the console and begins to slowly kiss my neck, letting his tongue lick the spot he plans to kiss first each time, and it makes me start to feel hot all over. He stops and I paw at him back, taking one of his big earlobes into my mouth and gently nibbling on it. He lets out what sounds like an involuntary noise. We both laugh at the strangled- like quality to it.

What people don’t tell you about sex for the first time, the first time with someone new, is that it’s awkward. At the same time, neither of us are new to the other. The unusual sensations and discoveries are wrapped in nervous laughter, and joy, but it’s all weird and wondrous and beautiful, to get to know someone differently than you did before. I know that, and he knows that. He looks at me with a raised eyebrow and I can’t help but laugh as he’s reaching around, unhooking my bra. I bury my face into his shoulder as he fumbles like a boy. He tries to defend himself by saying it’s been a while and I quip back, “what, 900 years?” and he continues to mutter soft, delicate little swears in his roughly accented voice until it finally comes undone and he gets rid of it. We stand there for a moment, both taking the other in as discreetly as two beings naked and eager can. His eyes find mine for a moment, but I turn away at the intensity because it’s too much. I can feel myself blush, the heat of red radiates from my cheeks to my neck. Oh god.

He tentatively moves forward, and places his hands unsteadily on my hips. He’s shaking. It’s a slight movement, but I can feel it. Trembling. I bite my lip in response because I can’t call him out on it and make him more conscious about the situation than he is. I find it easier to relax than I think he does. I wonder who the last person to tell him that he was handsome was. I don’t come right out and say it. I just pepper his neck with light kisses and trail over to his shoulder, and rest my hands against his chest. He makes a strangled noise for a moment, like he has a question to ask but doesn’t know how to speak.

“Do you take anything?” he asks, suddenly, and I want to joke that he might be asking a bit prematurely, but I don’t take the mickey out on him; instead, I nod.

“Does it matter?” I ask, without thinking. I’m surprised that he doesn’t want to launch into the technical aspects of it, but I’m also grateful. He’s waiting for a vocal answer. “Yeah, been on the pill for a while.” It’s so like him, so considerate yet oddly abrupt, like social conventions drift over his head. It’s an important question to ask, though. Other men I’ve been with didn’t seem to care too much. Other boys. It was always my responsibility to make sure. As far as life experiences go, The Doctor had me beat. He’s gone so far and done so much but he’s never made me feel like that meant anything to him. That he’d done more than me. Here was something I had done more of than him, at least recently. I vowed to not make him feel like he was less than anything I was. I just wanted to make him feel good. And to let him make me feel good. My hands find the button on his trousers, and he gazes down on me with that direct and smoldering look he has, leaning forward almost unsubtly into me. I stumble a little and press harder against the console. After another embarrassing struggle, I manage to free the button and slide them down but he’s kind enough not to mention it, because well namely it’s his fault that getting them off is such a project. He groans.

“Hurry up with it, then.” The laugh I have is no longer a giggle, but a full, throaty sort of noise, that’s torn between feeling giddy, and feeling the same forceful and overwhelming desire that he says it with. He nuzzles my neck with his mouth before he begins to kiss it gently again. I swallow at the feeling as he brings his hands to my breasts. I grab at his cock through the fabric of his pants. He rolls his rough fingers over my nipples, something I was never a hundred percent fond of but I think about what the Doctor said before, about having to be delicate with certain objects to make them play, and suddenly it makes sense. His hands are kind, they are gentle, but they are also eager to please and that makes all of the difference in the world. “Rose…please, get the keks off,” he almost demands in that way that he has that he can’t completely shut off. I raise my eyebrows, tantalizingly running my fingers underneath the waistband, brushing on the delicate skin that lies there.

“Keks?” I have to physically stop myself from snorting at the word, but I’m grinning at it, turning my head up towards his to see that he has the same gleefully confusing look in his own eyes, torn between the humor that keeps us together and the desire that’s pulling us together now.

“Lots of planets have a specific region, Rose, that use that word.”

“You’re a silly get,” I reply, and he leans forward abruptly and kisses me on the lips again. For a moment, I can’t remember what we were conversing about; the same timeless feeling swept over me as the first time I met him, and he told me what he was- he made me feel intrigued and dizzy all at once- and now he had done it again. I feel debilitated by his kisses because they wiped the notion of beginning and end from me like nothing else I had seen had, and by now, that was fairly a lot. They were shattering and mending all at the same time. I do as he asks, and let him stand there, stark naked in front of me. He doesn’t bash away from my stare, and I take in the full length of his hard cock, before wrapping my hand around it slowly. He pushes himself into my grip, steadying himself on my hips. He leans his jaw into the side of my head and gives a groan as I continue to tease him. My hand starts to get his fluid on it, and I can feel how it changes the way my touch feels. I can tell how much he likes it, and I know that when he touches me, too, he’ll know how badly I want him. All of him.

My Doctor, though- he’s so strangely polite, yet so abrupt. He doesn’t know how to ask delicately, but he can’t stop himself from questioning everything, every move, and the spontaneity of the moments fly over his head.

“Can I take this off?” he says, gesturing to the denim clinging around my legs. I smirk.

“You don’t have to ask. If there’s something that makes me uncomfortable, I’d tell you,” I assure him, and his excited grin reaches his eyes. The jeans are off and I’m left standing in a tiny, pink thong. I am so grateful that I took the time this morning to make a conscious decision on my knickers. The Doctor clicks his tongue suggestively and I laugh. I like the sound. He gently tugs the thong off not with trepidation, but with almost admiration. He seems transfixed by my bare skin. Like I’m the most wondrous person in the universe. I feel something rising in my chest that’s not from the agitated state of my libido; my heart beats wildly, and he comes back to meet my eyes. He’s reading me, I know it, but he doesn’t say a word about it. He leans forward and kisses me.

“Blimey,” it catches in his throat, “you are beautiful.” He doesn’t take it back. Thank god he doesn’t take it back.

I feel him wrap his arms around my knees and lift; I don’t resist him at all- the Doctor taking charge is always a turn on, especially after encouraging it- and he places me on top of the console so my feet dangle.

“You are also quite short…” he teases. I swing my feet for a moment and laugh. I feel playful and sexy all at the same time. I feel young and old. I tell him this. “Time and age are funny concepts, Rose; I’ll explain them to you later.” I think the atmosphere comes from the benefit, it seems, of having sex with someone that knows you almost completely. All you have to do is reveal that last bit of yourself- your inner workings, before there are no more barriers.

“You’re lucky there are no buttons digging into my arse,” I say to him to fill the void. He kneels in front of me and I look down at him a bit hesitantly. It’s not so much that I don’t want him to do it; it’s more that the nervousness is finally rushing across me. There isn’t any way to turn back time from here. I don’t know why. But I think in this moment, he feels it to because he stops and stares at me, and in response I nod my head for no real reason. He presses a kiss to the side of my kneecap before he looks back into my eyes, a grin to his cheeks, and begins to drag his lips gently up my thigh. Each second he gets closer to where my whole body wants him to go.

I can feel the desire ripple through me, concentrating itself as pressure that needs to be relieved. He brings a finger in between my crotch and pulls it gently up; it’s safe to say that I am incredibly wet and I think he’s surprised by how much, but he doesn’t say anything; instead, he brings his mouth down to follow where he had dragged his finger- his tongue laps against me in one slow movement. My hands shoot instantly for his hair, but there’s nothing to grab on to and he has the audacity to chuckle while he tortures me. What began as slow and steady no longer resembles that. His tongue embarks on a journey of no recognizable pattern except that every lick feels better than the last. He alternates between long and short and while he does so he slips a finger inside of me. I can feel him all around me now. Inside, outside. I feel his nose brush against the very utmost part of my vulva and it brings a smile to my face, breaking my heavy concentration on trying not to moan. One escapes me, and he licks more directly onto my clit, flitting over it with such precision that I’m now clutching onto the top of his head despite there being no hair to hold on to. The other hand grasps firmly to the TARDIS console for support so I don’t slip, yet he is relentless in his pleasure, continuing to keep me so wet that I have to physically stop him, easing him off of me despite the fact that I am so close to slipping over the edge. He gets up off the ground, concerned, but I wave it off.

“I’m a one and done sort of woman,” I reply. “Never been good at having multiple…I want to keep going…” I try to explain, but he nods as I speak to save me from clarifying any farther. I know he understands. I pull him by the shoulders forward and kiss him hungrily, and the smile I give him is almost wolfish. “Do you want to shag me?” I ask him, boldly.

“More than anything,” he admits. “But let’s take it to a different area, Rose. You won’t believe how uncomfortable that floor is.”

“Should have said something!”

“Well, I didn’t want to ruin your excitement there, but now while we’re on the subject. Suppose we can use my bedroom. Well, that’s if I can find it. Don’t spend a lot of time in there, you see. Should be fifth door on the left after the stairs, past the bins- what, where-”

I, Rose Tyler, begin to drag the naked Doctor relatively roughly down the hall to the bedroom the TARDIS created for me, rolling my eyes at him. My room is in a relative disarray, but I give him an exasperated look and without a single word for reproach for dirtying up his ship, we shove the clothes that have piled up on my bed onto the cold, TARDIS floor. I sort of shove him onto the bed and he raises a wicked, smart sort of eyebrow at me, as if he has something sassy to say but I catch the thought in his throat as I bring my mouth down around his cock.

He likes it. I can tell. My lips are smooth and so is his cock. The length of him is surprisingly long, as are his legs. I never noticed before but seventy percent of his height comes from his legs. I gently come up and down, swirling the tip with my tongue in between the motions and his hands grip the mattress tightly. Pink and purple sheets are clutched in his rough fingers. I smile at the thought and he gives a sort of grunt as I take him out of my mouth and instead trace the outline of my lips. His hands wind gently into my hair, and then follow down to my breasts.

“Let me inside of you…” he murmurs; he sounds so intense, commanding but not overpowering. Like someone who has waited a very long time for what he wants. I grin and nod, and I try to clamber over him to lay flat on my back but we both lunge at the same time, making the change awkward and messy. I laugh and he smiles. I manage to position comfortably and he hovers over me, waiting for me to be ready. I bite my lip, and put a hand around his neck, holding him for support. He helps to guide himself into me. Neither of us, amidst the joking, are completely prepared for what follows when he finally slides inside of me. I always thought myself a normal girl. Sex isn’t mindblowing, not like blokes would have you think. It’s enjoyable, but it’s not life-changing. That was before. I don’t know how to describe it. I feel…right. Not amazing, right. Everything, every moment, every breath, every finger curl, belongs. It all belongs now. Not a moment too soon. Everything gathers here.

He pulls out of slowly at first, as if the motions still need to acquire rhythm, but eventually his hips between to buck quicker and harder. A small moan escapes my throat and the Doctor’s smooth lips attach themselves to my neck. He gently sucks on it and I hook my legs around him. He slides his arms around my waist and he lifts the bottom half of my body and I bend and move like putty, willing to get into any position he wants me in. He presses me against the headboard of the bed as he kneels, distributing his weight and mine to his knees. The bed rocks as he continues to thrust into me. I can feel my fingers curl into his skin, noticeably at his shoulders and he hisses, so I lighten up but he doesn’t. Neither of us are speaking, but breathing is staccato- quickened and stunted with every thrust. We’re both sweating. I’m unaware of when it got so hot and I bring my face to his and we seize each other’s lips. My legs start sliding because of the heat, and he relents and I feel my body begin to ache in protest. I kneel, too, for the time being, and his hands find their roaming way over to my bum. He gives it a good squeeze, and I laugh a little.

“Been wanting to do that for a while…” he says, sincerely. I roll my eyes.

“Do you want me to turn around?” I ask. He places one of his hands under my chin and kisses me deeply.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, as if he’s frustrated that he can’t tell.

“I had no complaints about what you were doing before!” I say, pinching his butt. He swats at my hand.

“Rose, stop it. C’mere.” He laces his fingers with mine, but I shake my head and gently shove him against the bed.

“Can you lay down?” I ask him. He rests his hands on my hips, but does as I request, because really there is no reason to argue against me. He elevates his chest with some pillows behind his back, so that he is laying in an obtuse angle. I straddle him and lean forward and I can see the veins and muscles in his neck stretch and become more defined. I bring my hips back and forth slowly, and I can feel him gliding in and out. It feels heavenly. I try to kiss him, but he presses his head back into the pillow exposing his tense neck so I kiss that instead and his hands wander across my hips. He sounds desperate when he talks.

“I need you to go faster,” he admits. “You feel so…” I find his lips this time, and I nod my head. I sit up straighter with his cock inside me which allows me to move more freely and quicker. He runs both of his hands down my back and one grabs firmly to my side while the other he brings around to my front. His thumb presses against my clit and he rubs in circles, bucking his hips up into me to quicken the pace. I laugh at him and plant my hands against his chest, but soon that giddiness is overpowered by more intense sensations. My breath feels hitched and desperate and I know that I am so close, and he keeps encouraging me to go by not backing off, and it starts to happen. I can feel the orgasm all the way from my toes, quivering and radiating that blissful feeling and I’m pretty hushed about the whole ordeal- a single, guttural moan leaves my throat but other than that there’s no shouting because frankly my body is too wiped out for any such thing.

Despite the fact that I felt like I could roll over and go to sleep in his arms, I know the Doctor is still waiting (somewhat) patiently for the same release, but he’s not begging me…he lets me come down from the feeling, and he begins rubbing his hands up and down my back, and has the sweetest, sexiest smile on. I realize that he’s focused on me. It’s so like the Doctor. He’s so different from any other man in the universe. He truly puts everyone else’s needs before his own- selfless in most ways. I’m possessed by the desire to lean forward and kiss him; he seems surprised, but he kisses me back, knitting his hands into my hair. I don’t tell him. He doesn’t tell me. But he knows what it means, and so do I, and that’s enough. I circle my hips and he breaks away from the kiss abruptly, obviously distracted by the actions at hand. His fingers, gentle before, tighten their grip on my skin.

“I want you to come inside me,” I whisper into his ear. He doesn’t answer my back with words; he sort of just grunts an answer but in my head almost I can hear him say that my wish is his command.

“Rose,” is all he manages to get out.

 I drag my lips to his neck and he pulls me harder, trying to get as far into me as quickly as possible and I let him; he doesn’t make a noise, but I watch the contractions of his sharp face, and then I feel it in his cock- pulsating and I feel wetter than before and I know that he’s come. He grips into my back and I collapse against him, my head finding a place on his sweaty shoulders. He has no words to give me, but he does pull me closer and places a slightly awkward but entirely adorable kiss against my forehead. I feel myself biting my lip and burying my face deeper into his shoulder. It’s like I’m incapable of moving. I feel my own chest rise as he breathes in shallowly. He laughs at himself to, the same good-natured and amazed way that I laugh at him. I’m in no rush to get off him, but I know I sort of have to. He takes his eyes off of me for a moment to glance over my right shoulder. “Go…but hurry back.”

“Ugh, fine. But don’t look at my bum!”

“900 years, never seen a bum like that.” He kisses me. It’s almost shy. Like he’s afraid I’m not going to come back. I make the uncomfortable journey to the bathroom. When I come back, he’s mucking about with the things on my nightstand. I want to call him out on it but honestly, I just can’t. Before me is a man who hates all things domestic. Yet here he is, tangled in my pink comforter and rummaging through my belongings like they’re his as well. He catches my eye and looks at me a bit wolfishly. He holds up a small picture. “You keep a picture of David Beckham in your drawer?”

“He’s just what I like, clean-cut, nice bum…” The Doctor gives himself a quick look over and holds his hands out in a gesture. I roll my eyes and climb into my bed with him. He wraps his arms around me and makes lazy circles on my shoulder. I let out a deep breath. “Who am I?”

“I thought-”

“Just tell me, Doctor.”

“You are Rose Tyler. From the Powell Estate, London, nineteen years old, and beautiful. Smart-”

“No A-Levels…”

“Smart, kind, loyal, my friend and…and the only person I want to share this universe with. Really Rose, you are one of a kind. When I said that I’ve made up my mind, I meant…You know that…what’s the point of it all, this universe if…I…” I kiss him, gratefully.

“I know, I know. I finally know,” I say.

In those moments, in that moment, I know who I am. I am Rose Tyler. I am from London. I am nineteen. Most of all, I love the Doctor. Because I know he loves me. We might never say it. But love is enough to define who we are or what we become.


End file.
